Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing.

Warnings: Slash, lemons, blood-letting and vampirism.

Chapter One:

'A soldier had no need for compassion.'

That thought ran rampant in Solo's mind, briefly chasing away the burning pain that plagued him. Duo, who always smelt of mecha oil and bittersweet colts was fading from life-slowly and painfully.

Duo begged Solo to kill him, screaming for his switchblade so he could finish off what Oz troops had started. Duo's desperate pleas for mercy were strangled as he choked on his own blood.

Solo sat, silently rocking him back and forth in his arms, tears falling onto his blood-soaked tunic. He was watching the only person he loved die. And Solo slowly died with him.

The Four Horsemen, a name derived from history, was the code name for four young freedom fighters on L2 colony cluster. The two boys clutching each other in the dark were Death and Famine. They wreaked havoc to Oz bases all over the colony, killing more enemy troops than anyone had thought possible. They, along with two other L2 street brats, were seen as the Four Horsemen-children bringing death to those who oppressed the colony.

An end came to the Four Horsemen that night, and it nearly killed the hope of the dying colony of L2.

The last safehouse from OZ fell apart. The other street brats fled after their four champions were defeated in battle.

Solo disappeared before the life drained out of Duo's body. He placed Duo's near lifeless body gently on the pavement and fled as well.

Rain thrummed on the rusted steel coverings protecting the houses and clubs from the seeping cold. Music drummed in his ears and tears streamed down his face as he fell to his knees on a bridge, crying and gasping in his grief.

They were all dead. Solo thought of Duo's beautiful and street-hardened cherub face and of the safehouse crumbling to dust, trapping and killing his friends.

And Duo's screams for mercy.

The Four Horsemen were no more.

He didn't move from his kneeling position, burning face against cool stone, until the rain stopped. Through his blazing grief and anger he heard footsteps and the street brat within himself kicked in. Solo knew that he was the perfect target for muggers or Oz soldiers, but the pain he felt was too great and he just didn't care anymore.

"I don't know how dumb or drunk you are, but you gotta be a tourist if your travelling these streets without protection", a lucid voice rang out too close for comfort. Solo lifted his head and turned, still on his knees with the look of pure hatred for what he saw.

Four Oz soldiers stood grinning stupidly just behind him with rifles and ammunition strapped to their backs. The one who spoke, he assumed, was the highest ranking officer present; a Captain.

One of the men reached out to stroke his long hair, letting his hand pass over Solo's lips. Shuddering, the boy remember the time before the safehouse, when prostitution had been their only chance for survival. It wouldn't happen again but what was going to happen now that there was no one to turn to? There was no one to keep him away from the needy, paying costumers on the streets.

Closing his eyes, he saw Duo when he had first found him scared, dirty and bleeding from injuries in the darkest corner of an allyway.

The soldiers were snickering over his lack of defence when the boy slowly stood. Opening his eyes Solo's face was set like stone. His cheap but sharp dagger was pulled swiftly from his boot.

The boy lunged furiously at the closest Greencoat and Solo sliced his abdomen open before the other soldiers realized what was happening. His small body moved like a dance, flickering between the soldiers, fast as lightening.

He watched the blood of the soldiers gather in the gutter, smiling a little when Duo's velvet voice spoke to him, from ages past. "Solo, we'll never be apart."

For once in his young life, Duo had been wrong.


Solo knew that the Oz Organization would be looking for the one Maxwell kid that got away, so he hid in the one place he figured they wouldn't look. The Oz transport ship was a huge hunk of newly created metal, the only non-rusted thing on the colony, including the colony itself.

'I swear on all the Maxwell graves, that I will never return to space...' Solo thought as he stealthily made his way into the ship.

The soldiers were out patrolling, but he knew that most high-ranking officers would be on the ship, the lazy bastards that they are. The water made the threadbare clothing cling to his small body, and made his otherwise silent steps squish on the metal floor.

Making his way into the heart of the ship, Solo hid in the best, most dark available and vacated place. This is where he made his first mistake and despite the adrenaline rush Solo fell asleep.


A group of Soldiers clad in Green uniforms huddled around a small form crouched on the floor. As Trowa neared, he could see that it was a very cold and malnourished boy. Believing that he was no threat, the soldiers jeered and drew closer.

The switchblade the boy was holding swiftly reached out and slashed the air in front of him. Surrounded, Trowa knew the kid had no chance, but was impressed at how the boy fought anyway. The white Oz Police band on his own uniform caught some of the soldiers attention and they allowed him through. Trowa stood a mere few feet from the blade and its wielder.

The soldiers had already beaten the kid pretty badly. There was blood pouring from his wounds, but the boy would survive. Trowa regarded the other boy silently until Solo collapsed to the ground in front of him, with everything but fear in his eyes.

The police officer picked up the bruised and bloodied form and was walking towards the brig when a regular soldier grabbed his arm. "Hey! Were gonna have some fun with that Maxwell kid before ya take him up the ranks, copper!" There was a dangerous glint in his eyes as he reached for Solo. Cradling the boy, Trowa swung at the man, taking him down with one shot.

The others, seeing their friend crumple to the ground were hesitant to stop the officer, no matter what pleasure they could get from the boy. His form, hidden under the bulky uniform, turned into shadow as he made his way past the soldiers and through the darkened halls in silence.

That was the final recorded sighting of the last Maxwell kid, and those soldiers were the last humans to ever see him alive.